Path of the Broken
by TheTurtleWolf
Summary: A look into the lives of those affected by the Dragonborn of Legend, either directly or indirectly, for better...and for worse. Post Civil War.


The Ghost

4E 204, 8th of Last Seed.

Staring at the wheat-haired, green-eyed, weathered man in the mirror, Kalthar Storm-Shield, Dragonborn of legend, casually considered using the Thu'um, his fist clenching for the briefest of moments; it's not like anyone was up at this hour, right? No chance anyone would get hurt if he just...

He shut his eyes, running through the scenarios in his mind.

Eventually frowning, he shook his head; True, he could take it outside, prop it against the city wall, and unleash the voice, but considering the state of Whiterun at the moment...no, it was best not to upset anyone…

...still...perhaps if he just...took a swing at it-

"Kalthar? Kalthar, love, the escort's here."

Still contemplating shattering the image before him, he didn't even register the sound of the door opening, the hem a dark fur coat brushing faintly against the door frame as someone gripped the side, halfway into the room.

"Kalthar-?"

Blinking as he realized he was being addressed, he finally saw his wife in the mirror and turned around, trying to force a smile for her.

"...Ah, hey, Syl...yeah, I'm...I'm ready..." he trailed off, his attempt dying out at her less than convinced expression, at the pitying look in her oak-brown eyes.

"...Are you sure you'll be alright wearing that the whole time? It'll be a week before we're there, so..." she asked.

After a moment, his face fell, casting his eyes at the floor.

"No...It...It's fine, Syl..."

"...Alright, then; Come on, let's not keep them waiting much longer."

Staring blankly for a bit, Kalthar sighed, gave her a solemn nod and put out the light in the room. Following her as they approached the stairs to the first floor, he passed by his Harbinger armor (a faint layer of dust dulling the shine of quicksilver and ebony), doing his best to ignore the cold stare of the grey wolf, and the wintry roar of the bear carved into the metal. As he began traveling down the stairs, he briefly contemplated simply draping a cloth over it; Getting rid of it was out of the question, so the least he could do was keep the dust off of it.

"Ah, morning, my Thane; Everything's packed up, and ready for the journey."

Weary eyes regarding Lydia as he reached the first floor behind his wife, the housecarl herself leaning against the kitchen wall in her steel-plate armor, Kalthar nodded.

"My thanks, Lydia."

"Of course, my thane; Are you sure you don't want me coming along? There've been some rumors of unrest along the roads north-east."

Studying his housecarl as if contemplating the offer, he shook his head.

"...My thanks, but…I need you to stay here to watch over Sofie and Alesan."

Lighting frowning as his housecarl contemplated the order for a bit, he sighed in relief as Lydia nodded.

"If you say so, my Thane; I'll guard them with all my life. Oh, and...Lady Sylgja?"

Glancing at his wife out of the corner of his eyes as she let out a sigh, he managed to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, even in his exhaustive state, eliciting a small thank you from the short-haired brunette of an ex-miner.

"...Two years, and I'm still not used to being called that...Yes?"

Hearing Lydia chuckle lightly, Kalthar turned back to his housecarl to find her staring at them, a grateful smile on her face as she glanced between the two of them.

"...Thank you for keeping him together, through all this."

Lightly sagging at her words, he started as he felt a hand grasp his own, turning to meet his wife's loving gaze as she offered him a small smile.

"Under Mara's loving gaze, we journey together through joy...and hardship'."

...Embracing her in a passionate kiss as Maramal pronounced them husband and wife... Congratulations and smiles from the few family and friends present... Making love for the first as a married couple at the Bee and Barb...and the morning after, riding off with her to Whiterun at sunrise as their new life together began…

A genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at the memories, he gently met her lips with his own, savoring the brief glimmer of bliss that it brought.

"...in love, now and forever..." he all, but whispered as he pulled back, holding her gaze for what seemed like forever as his woes faded to the back of his mind...

"...Hmm...I'm sorry to interrupt, but...there's an escort waiting just outside, my Thane."

...and resurfaced just as quickly, bringing him back to Nirn.

Closing his eyes, he slowly turned back to his housecarl and exhaled, bowing his head in acknowledgement, still holding his wife's hand.

"...Aye. Take care, Lydia."

"Likewise, my thane; you too, Lady Sylgja. Just remember to keep your guard up on the northern roads." she replied, waving the pair off as she headed upstairs for some rest.

"Right…up...north." he muttered as he turned to follow Sylgja, eyes looking downwards in thought at the housecarls warning, before gradually looking up at his wife as they reached the front door.

"Ready, my love?" Sylgja asked, grasping the door knob.

He simply studied her, brow furrowing.

...Kalthar?"

"Are you sure you want to go, Syl?" he asked, his eyes, exhausted as they were, narrowing in concern, as she turned to face him with a raised eyebrow.

"...What do you...?"

Raising a hand, he began gently stroking his wife's cheek, brushing aside a brown strand behind her ear.

"...A lot of people up north hate me, and...I worry for you, Syl..."

Her face quickly lighting up in realization, he dropped his hand as she placed hers on his shoulder, a reassuring smile spreading across her lips before she kissed his cheek.

"I'll be fine, my love; I was taught by the best in Skyrim, remember?"

Frowning slightly in consideration of her words, Kalthar bowed his head, closing his eyes as memories flashed through his mind...from her tutelage under the Companions…

...Grinning as Sylgja's aim hit the target close to center from a pace of fifteen yards, alongside five other arrows, he felt a nudge from Aela, who nodded in approval at the brunettes progress…A month later, he raised a mug in her honor, Farkas and Vilkas giving fair applause as she managed to bring Njada to a good sweat for her efforts…The biting cold kept at bay by the warmth of the fireplace, Sofie and Alesan happily eating their sweetrolls at the table, he examined Sylgja's newest creation, the glistening steel of the forge-

-The wrinkled, tear-stained face of Fralia Gray-Mane screaming 'IMPERIAL MONSTER!' as she punched the ground beneath her, Eorland standing beside her, expression unreadable-

Tensing slightly, Kalthar forced his thoughts elsewhere, to the last adventure he'd been on with his wife...

...whipping around at the sound of Sylgja's battle-cry, his eyes widened as he saw her war pick break the shield of the highwayman she was facing, fire enchantment causing him to rasp in pain before nordic steel pierced his side. Preparing the rush to her aid as the bandit raised his axe, Kalthar halted as she dropped to the side and yanked out her weapon, leaving her burning foe to lodge his weapon in the wood below with a gasp before the war-pick pierced his head, ending the threat for good. The highwayman's body collapsing to the floor, the dragonborn rushed to his wife's aid as one of her legs buckled from a large cut, immediately whipped out a healing potion. Taking survey of their battle as she hastily drank the contents, he took note of the corpses with signs of her handiwork, and beamed with pride at how far she had come…

Slowly opening his eyes to meet his wife's now concerned ones, he sighed

"Please; Stick close to me, at least."

With a bemused nod from Sylgja, he braced himself as she opened the door, the cold air of Whiterun meeting them as they stepped outside...

"Captain Gro-Ghol and company, present and accounted for, Legate Storm-Shield, sir!"

...At the sight of the legion soldier before him, the dragonborn's face hardened. Wearily examining his charges, he nodded.

"Acknowledged...any trouble on the way here?"

Captain Gro-Ghol shook his head.

"A few cold shoulders here and there, but nothing serious, sir."

Glancing at the Wind-District out of the corner of his eye at the statement, Kalthar remained silent

"...Legate Storm-Shield?"

"...It's nothing. Onwards, then."

He and his wife mounting their horses, the small company trotted to the gates of Whiterun, the guards quickly opening the way for the thane. As the road out to the rolling plains beyond was slowly laid bare, the dragonborn's eyes wandered over the scene before them; early as it was, a few stonemasons and carpenters had already gotten to work, resuming reparations of the cities entryways. Even months after Ulfric's final gamble to control Whiterun had ended, damages to the city walls remained, fixed day by day, occasionally sped up with the aid of magic. Soon, the main trading hub of Skyrim would be rebuilt as good as new, walls pristine and fitted with the finest stone afforded; banners flying high above, statements of allegiance, loyalty, and a warning to outlaws; a sight to behold for visitors and patrons, their coin a welcome addition to the cities coffers, maintaining the

And yet…

No matter how often he passed by the city gates, he heard it...saw it...smelled it…

Smoke filling the air as the catapults devastated the land around them...steel ringing in the air as weapons clashed, the owners lost in the mindless frenzy of battle...the children of Skyrim falling one by one to their brethren, quickly forgotten as they were trampled under the boots of those who remained….

...cries of horror and triumph as he unleashed the Thu'um, the bodies of Stormcloaks hurled into the air, and landing with a sickening crunch as the Legion rallied around the Dragonborn...

'...By cutting out the disease of this rebellion, we will make this country whole again!'

"...Does it get any easier, Rikke…?"

"Hmm?"

Turning his gaze upwards as the gate finished opening, his heart grew heavier at the vast expanse of aetherius above them, the knowledge of Sovngarde a blessing...and a curse.

"Do you think old soldiers like Rikke have had sleepless nights...like I have? Do you think they just...got used to it?"

Feeling his wife's hand caressing him after a moment of silence, he closed his eyes, her warm touch welcome in the unforgiving cold air.

"I...I can't say I speak for them, but...I think they know what you're going through."

Pondering the answer, he gave one last sigh of resignation, tightening his grip on the reigns.

"...Then I wish I knew what kept them going."

At his command, they began their trek out of Whiterun's gates, the flags of Whiterun and The Empire loaming high in the sky above them as they trotted picked up speed past the final entryway.

For the soldiers of either side, the battle of Whiterun had stood for glory, for a righteous cause, and had been the most important moment in their lives, even if scholars would look at it as a mere footnote in the tale of the Last Dragonborn, another battle in the hold's long history, and a sign of the Empire's potential recovery.

But for the 'Dragonborn of Legend', the 'Savior of Skyrim', as he and his party rode past the stables towards their destination...

It had been the start of his misery.

**A/N:**

**So, first real fanfic. Been wanting to write this thing for QUITE some time, kept making tweaks here and there as I figured out what did and didn't make sense. So, hope you all enjoy while I spin this particular yarn, as I plan to cover all the cities and towns, organizations, etc., tackling the wide range of characters that the game gave us. Joy.**

**Leave a review if you like, feel free to critique, and know that I am actively looking for a Beta!**


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